Recap:
I landed on Thursday, walked into the first (and only) store where I applied at the mall about a half-hour's walk down the street on a Monday, and was hired for a job on Wednesday. Turns out it was two months overdue, but I finished hand-beading the full-length denim skirt in eight somewhat packed days. Let's say ~40 hours, factoring down time in the store when I repeatedly stopped to help customers or when I watched a movie at home and I'm sure slowed my work speed. My boss loves me, and she's wonderful, and she's a little manic and disorganized running her company and her life--so I'm slowly becoming a sort of Personal Assistant Lite, or something.
Living with Vincent and Jorge isn't quite how I expected it, but it's not bad. I was excited to see more of Eva, and so far, no disappointments there. Vincent's sister Justina was the only one of our crew whom I had not met beforehand, and I was excited to finally match personal interactions to Facebook banter. Initial impressions were somewhat accurate, but unfortunately there's about to be a big come-to-Jesus meeting about how some people's idea of "considerate to roommates" is actually rather inconsiderate to the roommates they're lecturing. Fingers are crossed for a peaceful discussion and calm resolution.
Friday Night, April 17th:
Bebe Zahara Benet and Tammie Brown came to an event at Eleven, a big gay club in West Hollywood (WeHo). Naturally, I could only pay homage as Violet, and hoped for a Photo Op (which happened. Good shot, too). I walked to the back of the line, and was there not thirty seconds when Mirel got my info for their V.I.P. list. After meeting the ladies, I was on my way out, when Mirel introduced me to Joshua, who took me back into the club to meet Detox (think Cher's face with Dita Von Teese's makeup)...followed by (somewhat in order) Lenny, Cheyne, JP, Josh, Vincent Van Guard, Nelson, Bryan, etc. etc. etc. Basically, these are THE party boys of Hollywood...which has never been my scene, forsooth, but they throw the gigs, they know the celebrities, and they make the lists. Joshua, the introducer, is best friends with Lady Gaga, and was throwing a party tonight (Saturday going into Sunday) supposed to feature the one and only RuPaul. He gave me three V.I.P. passes (for myself and the boys). He wants to do my makeup one night before we go out. He can tell I've got something... and he wants to make me a star. The night capped with Josh giving me a rose and flirting with me JUST ENOUGH to wonder if he's flirtacious by nature or if he would actually like to see more of me. He romanced me a bit, for sure.
Saturday afternoon, two petals of the rose has peeled away to reveal the beginnings of a lovely bloom. Foreshadowing?
Saturday Night, April 18th:
Needless to say, Violet was out again for night #2 in a row. The Fame party, as it was called, yielded no RuPaul, though he HAD fully paid for a table in advance. Instead, I just saw more of the boys, as they talked to everyone, checked the lists, gave the kisses, introduced me to people...and then got drunker and sassier. Josh was hard to read tonight as well, but instead of sweetness and charm, tonight's special was a plate of hot spice. Little looks here and there, his amazing dancing... but still just enough to still pass for "tipsy and sexy-faced", so the jury's out a little longer.
When I arrived home, ... well, we'll skip that part. It pertains to the upcoming house meeting, so that's all I'll say there. My rose was in a new vase and looked to not have been handled very well, as there was BARELY an inch of water in the short glass holder, and my hopeful rose was wilted and limp. No more is it my precious Beauty and the Beast Magical Rose. Now it's a dying flower in a short vase. If the blooming was foreshadowing, could this be foreboding.
I was livid.
So, enough Chronology:
The boys I've met over the last two nights? They LOVE me. I'm innocent, I'm fresh, I'm "fish" [as in, look like a woman instead of a drag queen]. They want to make me a STAR, as in a stage performer. Every single one of them. Paid money. Regularly. Headlining. But there's a lot of drama behind those curtains, I can sense it, hear it, even see it--and I'm told about it at every turn by the boys. I am so terrified that to go for this as a gig even just for the summer, something in me is going to change. I think a part of me is going to go, and I'm not sure which part it is, or even if it's a bad thing... but I don't think I'm ready to change.
Conversely, maybe I need to change. This naïve spark, though cute, is so tiring for me. Who cares if I finally know what all of this slang means. Maybe I should be on the ball. Maybe I am fabulous. Maybe I should learn to take a compliment. BUT I refuse to become a snotty diva. The boys are genuine, and I don't think I'll end up some fake stereotype (who, honestly, I have yet to encounter here in L.A. Can we say "all of Texas is a desert"?). They are so nice and welcoming, and sure, party boys do party, but I am looking forward to knowing more about them. I'm just hopeful I'm not on a plate for them... because if so, after the honeymoon, next is getting chewed up... before being spit out...
Still.... two guys certainly flirting with me (one a lovely Pilates instructor around my age, the other one of the city's hottest D.J.'s in his late 20's), and now Josh makes a possible three? I don't know what to do with myself. I know I've been a late bloomer (or even a shrinking Violet, buh dum bum... though she won't be a bud for long), but I don't need all of this backlog all at once.
I am terrified and right now, I wish I hadn't stopped myself from crying earlier when I got home. I am up, and I am anxious, and I need the release. I literally looked up flights tonight. I could be home May 4th for $89...but then, what will I have accomplished in L.A.? I'll have pissed off a headstrong roommate or two, skirted the world of drag without any real commitment (but two new purses), and seen a little sliver of the city? No Fashion research... no Fashion connections... barely any honing of skills. And what awaits me at home? Sure, familial embrace, but what then? No nightlife, since the Houston Gays are a breed with which I cannot find a niche, and probably no Fashion work besides Retail? I could run to Savannah, try to move in with Darcy, Reece, and D.J. earlier than perhaps planned... settle into a life there, find work... see my friends graduate? but.... no travel, no experience, no excitement for my Senior Collection at go #2.
I lost my passion months ago. Will I find it and a renewed spirit here on the West Coast, staying in a house with at least two friends? Certainly, if things improve, but if they don't, will I stress myself with constant bitching and power battles? Or Will I get away from it and move out to West Hollywood to dive fully into the life of a club child? If I do that, will more of me crumble away to reveal a pink, new person... a raw, exposed stranger? And will he work a day job, or will she headline Metro Mondays at FUBAR?
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